Lyrics
(Feel the real wrist like I'm Channing)
Yeah
I done missed out on so much
I done won my heart all froze up
Give you 'til your blood raw, no cut
I believe in hustle, no luck
Find a nigga realer than no such
I'ma let my nuts hang, give no fucks
I ain't have a fuck thing when I growed up
Now the money chump change, if it fold up
Showin' up, everybody turn they back on
Head it down, ran it up, now I'm back on
I be puttin' on for the team, I'm the backbone
None the better ever did it with a trap phone
Put in charge, another nigga never last long
Would've folded on me, could've been a sad song
But I found a way to shake back 'cause I'm that strong
Catch plays 'til the pipe gone
Fuck hoes 'til they dead tired
Call bluff 'til the lead fly
I might go to catch a red eye
Runnin' up to Bed-Stuy
If it be about them dead guys
On point, I ain't scared, boy (not never)
Raw bitch, KOD, got her leg wide
Need the time that she show me what the head like
Forgiato, fuck a bump at the red light
That lil' money ain't enough for no fed time
Hundred thousand in a month, that my deadline
We got nothin' to discuss if you playin' mine
I got smackers in the cut they'll go through
Droppin' dummies on anything we go through
Standin' too tall, feelin' like I'm Goku, you gon' smoke who?
I send enough smoke to choke you, you got no clue
What that yop and that scope do
Promise everything hold true
Promise everything 1K
I'm from a city full of gunplay
City full of sliders, yeah, yeah
Said I drip through the city in a whip that's so pretty
Need to put it on a runway
I don't flag, I don't pump fake
Go to Jive, get you slumped, ayy (Fuck 'round, leave your lil' ass, for real)
I be rippin' and runnin' while me get to that money
Bitch, I'm up, what they gon' say?
Yeah, it's goin' like
Me and Foody rollin' 'round in a new day
Twenty wall shawty, gold mouth doggy, look like Mookie
Look like Plies, look like Trick
Florida water all I spit
Ayy, my neck, where my wrist?
Load my fire, talk my shit
Just like this, who they gon' get with?
Cuban link chain lookin' like Slick Rick
Cartier watch, not the same Fitbit
In this ho flood, bitch, I'm on hit, get
Hundred round drum, thirty shot, dig, dig
And I'm gon' squeeze 'til it go click-click
And I stand sticks, but we tote big shit
You gon' get did, you gon' get flipped, jit
Clearwater Beach, fuckin' on thick bitch
I'm in these streets, God as my witness
Boy, I got my wrist lit, haters got they wrist slit, huh
Say I'm fallin' off, I must've missed it, yeah
Clique full of squares, y'all pick-stitch niggas
Been sick ass since I went and hit six figures
Got 'em throwin' up like when a bitch sip liquor
No cut, I'ma tell it like it is, bitch nigga
Nah, I don't wanna kick shit with you
I don't wanna rap no more
I don't wanna vibe, I don't wanna see these niggas
Catch me in the trap, oh no
I was in a cell, couldn't get a picture in the mail
Couldn't get a dollar on the books
When I touch land and I go to fuckin' up these bands
I'ma make 'em feel it when they look
Spend like thirty grand, bustin' down the bezel in they van
Throw up, my nigga, 'fore I get it took
Twenty thousand grams, probably want three hundred when it land
But we gotta make sure that it cook
I don't understand why these niggas taggin', nigga playin'
Know I went and got it out his crease
Homie, I'm a beast, that's a two-door with four seats
Black on black, who could it be?
That nigga Breezy
Uh, I can't even lie, that's a different type of pressure right here, though
Know what I'm sayin'?
The realest, rawest niggas
Florida niggas that kicked the door in on this rap shit
And I'm puttin' on for the thugs too
All the scammers, all the street niggas
All the smackers, all the Jive boys, all the dufflers
Know what I'm sayin'?
MLMG in the building
It don't get no bigger
Ayy, Rozay, we got 'em runnin', we got these bitch-ass niggas runnin'
727 to 305, but really, this shit worldwide
Know what it is
(Maybach Music)